


Paternalis

by nonky



Category: Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Bishop was always the same; full of sound advice mixed with corruption, only wanting what he thought best for Aiden.





	Paternalis

It was always jarring to see his maker crossing the cafeteria with polite nods for all he met – a familiar professional visitor who was at the hospital numerous times in a month. Aidan never got used to the idea Bishop had become so adept at hiding.

Perhaps he was used to the danger, attuned as he was with the other man. They were family, Bishop insisted firmly, cold smiles and telling tension in his hands. It was a possessive word, one that Aidan feared because he knew the reunion was going to take out half of Boston's indigent population.

“Good morning, Aidan,” Bishop hailed him loudly, preventing a slip off the service corridor. “Hey, I still owe you a coffee break, if you have a minute now. What are you drinking these days?”

That one stung, and the polite polish of the dismissive wave Aidan did fell apart. It came off as a slap, violence against that tiny space between them. He smiled, put a lot of dimples and Josh-inspired bashfulness into it, backed away slowly. “Oh, that's not necessary. I was glad to help.”

“No, come on, I know how much you get paid – you have to be hungry. Hey, why don't you go have a seat and I'll surprise you.”

There was a look Bishop could level at a person that defeated any self preservation. It wasn't charm, but it wasn't entirely threat. It was as if the gravity and conviction of the look convinced Aidan he had no other choice except to do what had been suggested. He watched as the women behind the counter flirted with Bishop's flattery, sugaring his coffee and giving a little extra wiggle as she leaned over to the pastry case. He had been a shy young man when he'd died, but his hunting education had allowed him to comfortably approach any woman – any person.

He stared at the wall and sat with a thump, pursing his mouth in self-censure. Aidan rehearsed the sales pitch he'd be hearing; they were family, he couldn't deny what he was, he was just hurting himself over a moral ambiguity too large for one person. Vampires hunted, it was necessary.

“Orange-cranberry,” Bishop said happily, putting a muffin and a cup of coffee down in front of Aidan. He grinned. “So, have you heard from anyone we both know?”

He hadn't slipped, not recently, so Aidan hadn't called for anyone to cover up his feeding. He shook his head and pretended to sip the coffee. The smell was cloying – far too much sugar. Bishop's easy shrug was the same level of unwanted sweetening.

“Really? Haven't been out clubbing lately? It'd be a great way to run into old friends.”

It could be meaningless, just another little push toward hunting that Aidan should ignore. He shifted his shoulders and put the cup down before he threw it. “What?!”

“Nothing, nothing at all, I just was asking about your life. You have to do something other than work and go home to sit on your hands. It might as well be something social,” Bishop shrugged, face somehow holding levels of expression. For the rest of the onlookers, it was affable and kind, a little embarrassed to have made waves. Aidan saw the calculations running underneath the false lack of harm.

He was going to have to go out, look around and see what the hint was pointing toward. There would be drunks and easy women, ripe pickings if he was going to fall. He wasn't going to fall, but it would be torture.

“It's too bad you're not seeing Rebecca anymore,” the blond man said lightly. “You really seemed to like her.”

Incensed, Aidan clenched his jaw and pushed his chair back. “Shut the fuck up,” he whispered.

A hand came across the table, yanked him to lean in and listen. Bishop would break his arm before he let go. “No. NO. Listen to me. You made Rebecca like family. Like family, but she has a similar aversion to our care. It's very sad what she's been doing to herself.”

There was a low, deep feeling of urgency, a sick sense of need to find her and hold her. Love, Aidan thought desperately, now and under these impossible terms. His emotions had always been the larger issue. He couldn't accept Bishop's insane plots, but he couldn't live entirely without support. He couldn't imagine Josh helping to bury a body, or Sally keeping tabs on the city vampire population.

“No one blames you,” Bishop said clearly, turning the harsh grip into a comforting pat as he let go. They both knew Rebecca was sufficient bait to keep Aidan trapped without any force.

“I'll never forgive myself for hurting her,” he confessed, swallowing hard as the raw emotion swelled. “I'll help her, if you tell me where she is now.”

He had thought Bishop was making her into one of his minions, a beautiful woman who slipped into a room with a winning smile and left it hiding bloody teeth. If she was out there on her own, if she was lost – maybe she didn't have to become a cog in Bishop's plan.

Leaning back, the man seemed fatherly, complacent and indulgent. He tipped his head off to one side and checked his watch. Finally deciding the tension was satisfactory, he sat up straight.

“Every man finds himself wanting to settle down eventually,” Bishop said reasonably, spreading his palms as if it was a baffling but common issue to create a monster girl to love. “I'm asking you to think about it in terms of basic needs. You were cut off from anyone who knew you as you really are, and you had to be lonely. You found someone who seemed to want to know you. You made her into a form where she could be with you safely. I think it's noble, this fixation on equality in love. Sweet.”

He stood up, pushed in his chair, and slapped Aidan's shoulder companionably. “You should go out clubbing. I think you'll feel better if you do.”

Hundreds of years didn't decrease the older monster's ability to deliver cryptic advice. Aidan knew Bishop wasn't concerned about his stress level; if he thought it would drive him back to drinking live, his maker would even be delighted Aidan was having a hard time. The message was a garbled set of directions, a mixed up study of contradictory impulses.

Aiden sat there with cooling coffee and tried to decide what had been the real impulses. He knew Bishop didn't want him destroyed, as long as the bizarre prodigal son fantasy was still possible. The regret over Rebecca was only a subset of that desire to have more draw to bring him home. The reference to clubs was too overt to ignore, but he wasn't sure what he'd find. It could just be a taunt to get him somewhere near temptations.

But Rebecca was out there. Bishop had told him he could find old friends if he went out. Aidan didn't feel he had any choice except to follow the bread crumbs and hope to duck any trouble Bishop might have waiting for him.

He stared at the table and jammed his feelings down, breathing hard despite not needing the air. He would look for her and find her or not; fearing the worst of both outcomes.


End file.
